


Incoming

by Howling_Harpy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old Married Couple, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/pseuds/Howling_Harpy
Summary: Summer storm is raging, and Lipton has a difficult confession to make.





	Incoming

**Author's Note:**

> More PTSD musing and serious heart to heart. I just love little vulnerable and tender moments.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, makes no money, and means no disrespect.

When the first close by rumble of thunder struck, the electricity went out with a snap and then there was a loud crash in the kitchen. Speirs jumped up from his chair in the living-room and hurried towards the sound, his hand tracing the wall in the suddenly dark apartment. When he glanced out from the window it looked that at least an entire block was dark, and then another lightning split the sky. Only a second later thunder followed, and then Speirs reached the kitchen. 

After blinking in the dark for a moment Speirs could tell that there was metal kettle on the floor with all of its contents spilled, and Lipton was nowhere to be seen. 

Another blinding lightning struck and flashed the kitchen in pure white, and a deafening rumble followed. Pouring rain was rapping against the window, and Speirs squeezed the doorframes tighter. 

“Carwood?” he called. 

Yet another lightning struck and thunder rolled, and this time Speirs was close enough to hear a faint whimper coming from under the table. Speirs stepped into the room, carefully approached the small dining table and knelt on the floor. 

“Hey. What are you doing in there?” he asked. 

Carwood was curled up into a tight ball on his side with his arms covering his head. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and at first Speirs thought he hadn’t heard him, but then he spoke: “I’m… Taking cover?” He sounded like he didn’t really know from what. 

A flash of lightning lit up the room and thunder roared, and Carwood almost convulsed as he curled up tighter. 

Speirs watched him for a moment, trying to decide what to do. “It’s just a storm and a blackout. There’s nothing to fear,” he eventually said. 

“Just a storm,” Carwood repeated faintly. 

“Yes.”

He relaxed just a little bit, but enough to lift his head and turn his face to Speirs. He was pale and sweaty and gasping through his parted, bloodless lips, his eyes wide and confused. “I can’t move,” he mumbled. “I can’t move an inch.” 

Speirs nodded and thought for a moment again. He didn’t want to make whatever this was worse by doing anything wrong or sudden, but he wanted to do something. He glanced at the kettle and the pool of water it had spilled and briefly considered cleaning it up, but when another lighting cracked in unison with thunder that seemed to be adamant to rage on right above them, he decided that the mess could wait. 

“Take it easy now,” he said and crawled under the table, carefully approaching Lipton. He reached towards him and gently laid his hand on his side, feeling the man shudder with fright under his touch. “It’s okay. We’re safe here.” 

“I can’t move,” Lipton mumbled again with a streak of frustration in his voice. 

“You won’t have to,” Speirs assured him, “I’ll stay with you. We’re taking cover here together.” 

Lipton managed to glare at him. “I’m not crazy. I know where we are,” he insisted.

“Good. And where are we?”

Lipton wet his lips and swallowed. “In our kitchen, in our apartment in Boston, US.”

“And what year is it?”

Lipton’s breath fought, but eventually he managed to take a deep one, and shuddering he blew it out. “1961.”

“And that noise outside?”

Another deep breath. “A summer storm.”

Speirs nodded and inched closer, eventually laying on his side right besides Lipton, facing him. “That’s right,” he said softly, calm as ever. “It’s just a harmless storm, and we’ll ride it out.” He reached over to Lipton and pulled him towards him. It was no easy task, Lipton was still trembling and stiff like a frozen corpse, but Speirs rubbed at his joints and pulled him to him little by little, setting his arms around him and pulling him by his hip an inch at the time. Finally Speirs managed to roll onto his back with Lipton gathered in his arms, and with his head on his chest and arms around him Lipton let out a trembling sigh and finally started to relax. 

“Can I tell you something?” Lipton suddenly muttered, utterly drained. 

“Of course.”

“Do you… Do you remember that forest?”

Speirs didn’t have to ask even if they never talked about it, not much anyway. He remembered that forest just fine. “What about it?” 

Lipton shifted on his chest a bit, and Speirs couldn’t tell if he was nuzzling or trying to set his ear on top of his heart. Both were plausible, and he simply let him do what he wanted. 

Lipton’s fingers skittered weakly against Speirs’ side. “I was so scared back then. I was so scared, all the time. I was afraid that I was going to die.” 

Speirs held him and stroked along his back in broad, calming strokes. “Oh, darling. You are only human.”

“You weren’t scared,” Lipton noted.

Speirs huffed, thoughtful. He had always been aware of his reputation but Lipton hadn’t ever cared about it so they hadn’t discussed it really. “No, I think I was. I… was, yes. But I accepted it all. I was with the dead already, in a way. Detached, professional, sort of,” he mused, thinking back. He lifted his hand up to stroke Lipton’s hair. “But you, you were there for everyone. You held everyone together, comforted them and cheered them up. I did the job, but I was never liked. But everyone loved you, and to be loved you have to be present and alive.”

Lipton was quiet for a long time, startling every time thunder cracked but no longer curling up. He was pliant in Speirs’ arms, exhausted now that the worst of the panic had faded. “I liked you,” he suddenly said. “Ever since we talked for the first time, that first peaceful night, I liked you.”

Speirs smiled to himself, his chest warming from the inside even after all this time. “Had me figured out right away, huh?” 

Lipton didn’t respond, just breathed and curled around Speirs. “Your heartbeat is so calm.” 

“Because there’s nothing to fear. We are safe.”

Lipton nodded against his chest. “It’s just a storm.”

“That’s right. Just a storm.”


End file.
